


we would've been amazing

by trashfromaustralia



Category: One Piece
Genre: Angst, Angst without a happy ending, Hanahaki Disease, Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-23 14:34:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 621
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30056970
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trashfromaustralia/pseuds/trashfromaustralia
Summary: They weren't meant to fall in love with a pirate, so they got rid of their feelings.It was a pity that things couldn't be that simple.
Relationships: Portgas D. Ace/Reader
Kudos: 7





	we would've been amazing

_What are the odds_ , they gaze ruefully at their bloody palms, _that I’d fall in love with a notorious pirate?_ They take a withering breath, choking and descending into another fitful of coughs. The red on their lips would look pretty, if not for the dark origins of the colour. A single red petal falls, so out of place in the sullied sink. They wonder if the blossom has a naturally crimson hue, or if it’s because their innards are filthying them. _Perhaps it’s both_ , they think in good nature. 

They will their eyes to focus on their reflection in the stained restroom mirror. Water, clear and pure, rushes from the rusty tap. It turns dark, washing off the accumulated grime on their hands. The water stops running. They leave. 

\- 

A trip to the doctor causes their lungs to clear. They no longer have any coughing fits, and the next time they see him, they feel nothing. _He looks pretty as ever, today._ The passing comment doesn’t mean anything, it’s just an acknowledgement of a fact. _Then why does their throat feel like it’s on fire again?_

They cough and out comes a single petal. They brush it off as a fluke. _The petal must have been missed during the_ _surgery,_ they lie to themself. They don’t bother to comment on the next petal. Or the one after. 

The next day, they head to the hospital. They ask if vomiting petals after the treatment’s done is normal. The surgeons don’t have an answer for them. _It isn’t possible,_ the doctors insist, _the treatment is meant to remove any feelings you hold for them. The flowers should be gone._

They leave and bump into him on the sunlit sidewalks outside the hospital, or more precisely, the restaurant next to the hospital. They feel their heart clamouring in their chest when he grins at them, and distantly recognise they shouldn’t be feeling this way. They’re too busy wondering what adventure he’ll take them on next to care. 

He asks them why they were at the hospital. They tell him the truth, that they had a bad cough. He doesn’t dwell on their reason, and instead invites them to eat lunch together. They know they’ll regret it later, but accept nonetheless. The smile he sends them makes the coughing fit they have that night almost worth it. 

The flowers— _hibiscus_ , they absentmindedly note—surround them like they’re a dainty noble, preening and gossiping at their garden tea party. They litter the bed they lie on, as if they’re in a cheesy love hotel; as if they’re waiting for their lover to join them for a night of passion. They’re not. 

\- 

His Log Pose is due to set tomorrow, so they meet one last time. They eat at a different restaurant this time. He falls asleep while entertaining them with stories of his adventures as a pirate and older brother, and they’re so unbearably fond of him in this moment that a petal wrenches out of their lungs and onto their empty plate. 

He wakes up confused. The bloody blossoms are scattered across the table, and he looks up at them and realises what’s happening. Before he can manage to garble out a sentence, they tell him, _I’m going to take the surgery_. He doesn’t press any further. He doesn’t ask who they love to death. He doesn't ask if it's _him_ that they love to death.

He leaves with a bloody flower in his hair. 

They take the treatment again. 

_The flowers come back._

\- 

They watch him die, and choke. They cough and cough and cough—until there’s no more petals, until they stop breathing; a dead man can’t reciprocate their feelings after all. 

**Author's Note:**

> i might add to this later, might not.
> 
> also, this is the first fic i've posted on ao3, so i hope you enjoyed this!


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